Where wild minds come to rest
On December 21st, 2017, I didn't daydream. I wanted to see how long I could go after around four years of continuous dreaming in the day and night. It's been one day.
And I already feel scared.
I know that my MD is also a coping mechanism, but I think I've almost forgotten because it also felt like a way to express myself and to feel things that I had trouble feeling in the real world (instead of avoidance). Whenever I've tried stopping it before, I had this same feeling of fear. I do have social anxiety, but it's not the feeling that I have here. What's happening to me is more psychological than physical.
I think being conscious all of the time, like many people I've met here, is something that tires me. Not only in and of itself, but also because I have nothing in the real world that exists because of me. I've always tried to write, produce music, be a good friend, and go out into the world, but there isn't any physical/material thing, in reality, that makes me feel connected to this world.
I could argue that the way I think connects me to real people. I contradict myself in many ways, and when I communicate by whatever means, my train of thought isn't well delivered or easily followed. Not because I'm intelligent, but more of a disorganized and ambiguous nature, not holding on to one perspective because I'm trying to understand all of the others. With this, I try to understand people as well. I try. I don't think that I'm skilled enough to say I can read people. But the emphasis on the action of trying, showing that I care, is what makes me feel human, even if it's not much.
Even so, how I interact with others is still something that happens from the inside of myself. Daydreaming also happens from that same place, blurring the lines between reality and beyond.
I know that my dreams aren't real.
I think that the problem at hand is that I don't know what makes my reality feel real.
Update: I stopped December 21st, 2017. By December 28th, around 7:00 pm I relapsed.